


This is Not a Perfect World

by Port_of_Morrow



Category: James Bond (Movies)
Genre: Again, Angst, M/M, Scott Alan, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-01
Updated: 2013-09-01
Packaged: 2017-12-25 08:20:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/950845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Port_of_Morrow/pseuds/Port_of_Morrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on Again by Scott Alan. Prompted by siriuslymad</p>
<p>"Conrad picked it up, holding it in his right hand. The wooden frame held a single photograph; it was fuzzy but unmistakably 007. He was shirtless, lying on a bed with an arm wrapped around an equally bare Q, and his other arm holding up the camera. James’ arm was strong and flexed and held a laughing Q, all creased eyes and wide smiles, around the neck. They were laughing, and James had Q held so close to him, as if he never intended to let Q go."</p>
            </blockquote>





	This is Not a Perfect World

**Author's Note:**

> Words in the last third are inspired by Scott Alan's "Again," as requested by siriuslymad.  
> Link is here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vkat33ZrQe0

**The Evening of the Call**

Q was in a bar when he received the call from M.

The quartermaster hadn’t left the house- save for work- in several weeks, and his friend, Conrad from Medical had insisted he came to the bar for a drink. The beer was flowing, and Q was dressed in an impeccably tight suit his best friend had lent him, one which, apparently would help him “pick up the right bloke”.

Q sighed, but reluctantly wore it, knowing that the “right bloke” wasn’t in a bar or a club, but in Syria, dealing with the last few dregs of the mission, before returning home in a week. Q hadn’t heard much from his boyfriend since he’d left, save for a few late-night phone calls, all of which had been cut short by James, who was simply too exhausted to speak anymore. Q understood – he was spending all day physically exerting himself far beyond his capabilities (which Q had told him many times, but the agent was simply too egotistical to accept).

One night, he fell asleep whilst Q was speaking to him. The quartermaster found it quite endearing… he stayed on the line for ten minutes, just listening to James sleep – the sound of his suit against the rough hotel bedspread, and the soft grumbles he made as he rolled over- but more than ever just the sound of him breathing, of him being alive.  
Q needed that, that reminder. James was his everything, and as professional as he tried to be – it was never easy working when his other half was on a mission.

The phone rang as Q was leaving the Gents’, shuffling back to the table he and Conrad sat at, through the bustling bar.

“M, good evening,” Q trilled, before quickly seeking out the exit so his boss wouldn’t overhear some crude joke or request to “pass the spliff” whilst Q spoke to her.  
In a few seconds the quartermaster was out in the cold September air, in a dimly lit alley behind the bar.

“Q, we have some bad news, I’m afraid,” M spoke. The way her voice cracked, as if she’d been fighting back tears, sent a shard of glass through Q.

He swallowed deeply, “What… it’s not about… about 007…?” he trailed off. Of course it wasn’t- but that was all that had been on the quartermaster’s mind since his boyfriend had left several months ago.

“It is, I’m afraid. 007’s down. He was hit by an unclean shot- died from blood loss.”

Q fell to his knees.  
He didn’t mean to – the asphalt grazed the knees of his trousers.

“No… no…” he sobbed, “Not James… he can’t…”

Q couldn’t bring himself to say the word die, he couldn’t. James was invincible, he was the best.

“Q, I’m sorry,” came a concerned M, “It’s hard for all of us. He was a hugely important part of MI6 and he’s to be awarded an OBE for his-” 

And that’s when Q fell apart. He let the phone slip from his hands, watched it smash on the pavement beneath him.  
Q fell onto his hands and knees, tears streaming down his face and throat dry. His eyes stung so badly he couldn’t see. 

That night Q walked home, and once he was there, fell onto his bed and cried every last drop of water in his body.

It was 4.30am, and a knock on the door roused Q from the sleepy, wet-pillowed nightmarish state he was wallowing in.

Dressed in nothing but his annoyingly tight white shirt and a pair of briefs, he trudged to the door, wiping his face as he pulled it open.

Before him stood Conrad, his ginger hair messy and strewn, and his dark blue suit crumpled and creased on his body. He smelt of hard liquor.

“Someone’s had fun,” Q gulped, glancing at the young Medical Technician.

“Yeah well, not so much, just got the call from M.” he murmured solemnly, fishing a black wallet from his pocket. “You left this at the bar,” he smiled weakly, handing it back to Q.  
Q didn’t reply just turned around, and walked back down his hallway.

“You can come in, just close the door, it’s freezing,” he sighed over his shoulder.

Conrad wasn’t as drunk as Q thought he was – he was at least sober enough to brew up two cups of tea, and slump next to the quartermaster on his sofa.  
It didn’t take long for Conrad to realise Q was a mess- his eyes were red as the ace of hearts and tears had left two clear rivulets down his face. His hair was, as always, a mess- but it looked as though Q had been pulling hard on it out of frustration.

“Q,” Conrad breached the subject, cautiously, as the pair sat side by side on the sofa, “You seem to be, like… really affected…”  
“Yeah, well,” Q murmured, nodding his tired head onto Conrad’s shoulder, deciding in his groggy state that there was no use keeping secrets anymore. “I loved him.”  
“Didn’t we all?” the tall, ginger-haired medic replied, with a sad smile “He was brilliant,”  
“No,” Q murmured quickly, “I loved him. We… we were together.” 

At Conrad’s stunned silence, Q nodded to a small photo frame that stood on the table next to the sofa.  
Conrad picked it up, holding it in his right hand. The wooden frame held a single photograph; it was fuzzy but unmistakably 007. He was shirtless, lying on a bed with an arm wrapped around an equally bare Q, and his other arm holding up the camera. James’ arm was strong and flexed and held a laughing Q, all creased eyes and wide smiles, around the neck. They were laughing, and James had Q held so close to him, as if he never intended to let Q go.

“Fuck,” Conrad breathed, before setting it down. “Q, shit, I had no idea…”  
“No one did,” Q sighed back, as he pushed himself further down against Conrad’s body, “That was the idea.”  
Conrad nodded his head down to Q’s which rested on his shoulder, and left a single kiss on the Quartermaster’s forehead.  
“Conrad,” Q gasped, turning his head up to face the Medic, jaw dropped, but not resisting.

“I don’t know why I did that,” Conrad breathed, quickly turning away as a red blush overtook his face.

“No, I mean… please.” Q murmured sleepily, raising a hand to the Medic’s face, bringing it back. Q moved in and pressed his lips to Conrad’s, breathing deeply, and moving his body further against him.

“Oh my god,” the ginger moaned as he pulled away for a quick breath, “We shouldn’t… you’re upset Q… I…”

“Just _shut up_ ,” Q gasped back, repositioning himself on top of Conrad, pressing both hands to his neck and kissing him harder, deeper.

The ginger man locked his pale fingers into Q’s hair, bringing him closer, kissing him just as deeply back.  
Soon his fingers moved to Q’s shirt which he unbuttoned, and proceeded to run his fingers over the warm, tight skin on Q’s chest.  
Q moaned at the contact, before locking his lips onto Conrad’s neck.

He needed this now: he needed someone he could touch and kiss and fuck and pretend was James. He needed a warm body for a night.  
Conrad moaned back just as enthusiastically, “Shall we… bedroom?” he breathed, hands pressing against Q’s lower back and arse.  
Q just nodded as he stood up, and gripped Conrad’s wrist, leading him to the adjacent room.

 

**One Year Later**

Q woke up to kisses on the neck.

“Mmm, cheeky,” he moaned, rolling over on his side and lazily opening his eyes.  
“Morning, you,” Conrad mumbled, before giving an almighty groan as he rolled out of bed.  
Q cocked his head to the side, watching as Conrad stretched out his naked figure, and then swung open the wardrobe before him.  
“Covering that arse up already? You’re the worst fiancée ever,” Q teased, as he burrowed back into the fluffy duvets.

“Are you _ever_ not horny?” Conrad chuckled, as he slipped on a pair of boxers and white jeans, walking back to the bed.

“Jesus, even on your wedding day you’re a lazy fuck,” he rolled his eyes, as he reached a muscular arm towards the duvet and ripped it off Q’s body.  
Q gave a disgruntled moan before reaching out a hand to hold onto the waistband of Conrad’s trousers, pulling him closer.

“You’re so wonderful…,” Q sighed deeply.

“Well I’m glad you think that considering you’re going to be legally bound to me by midday,” his partner winked back.  
A moment of silence hung between them, Q fingers fiddling lightly on Conrad’s waistband.

“You do know what today, is, right?” the ginger man asked quietly.  
“Well you have reminded me twice in the past two minutes-”  
“Not that… I mean… Bond, you know? It was last year today.” the medic sighed.  
“Yeah, I know,” Q mumbled back, before standing up and stretching his arms up. He stepped close to Conrad where he left a lingering kiss on his lips, before saying, “James was my past. You’re my present, and future.” 

“Well I suppose, but I’m proud of you, Q. For being so strong.” Conrad mused, as he buttoned up a dark blue shirt, and slipped on a pair of trainers.  
Q just shrugged back.  
“Anyway,” Conrad continued, “I’m getting ready at Ben’s, so I’ll see you at the altar,” he smiled.

“Go on, see you then,” Q replied sleepily, leaving a kiss on his Conrad’s lips and watching as he made his way out of the door.

Once Conrad was gone, Q lay back in his bed, the white duvet smothering him, and cried.  
He didn’t stop for ages, he just couldn’t hold it in. This time… this exact morning last year he’d spoken to James on the phone.

He’d told James he was going to get pancakes at Franky & Benny’s and James said he wished he could be there because they were his favourite, and the closest thing he got to pancakes in Syria were thin slices of greyish bread. And then James made Q cry by saying that it wasn’t really the food he wanted, just Q’s company, and to see the way his face creased with happiness when it was stuffed with butter and cinnamon.

A year ago this morning, everything had been okay.

Conrad was good though, he was good to Q, he called Q brave and he said he loved him, and Q always kissed him back so quickly, so he wouldn’t have to say the same back.  
He was marrying Conrad today… it would be fine, Q told himself, it would be okay. At least he wouldn’t have to waste his life alone, wishing James were alive.  
Before he rolled out of bed, Q leant over to root through his bedside drawer. He extracted a box of Elastoplasts, and tipped the contents onto the bed. He’d used up the plasters ages ago, and all that remained was a photograph.

It was fuzzy, but unmistakably James, his chest bare and his strong arm wrapped around Q’s neck, so tightly- as if he’d never let him go.  
Q put the photo away quickly, to avoid staining it with another wave of tears.

**Later That Day**

“Hello gorgeous,” a voice sounded behind Q. He span around, to see Conrad standing in the doorway to his hotel room. It was a beautiful room, overlooking Regent’s park. Eve and R had been in earlier, helping Q do his hair just right and choose a tie. They were gone now, to get ready themselves, leaving the quartermaster alone with his thoughts, glancing out the window onto the beautiful park below. Q squinted as he glanced at the figures below, transfixed by a blurry face.

“Q… are you with me?” he asked.  
“Oh, sorry,” Q muttered, spinning around, “Head in the clouds. Oh, love, you’re not meant to see me yet,” he smiled, before stepping over to his fiancée and kissing him quickly.  
“C’mon, can’t do us too much harm. Just wanted to say hi, before we… you know…” Conrad spoke quietly.  
“I’m fine, really,” he smiled back. “Now go on, your hair’s still a mess and your mum’s not nearly drunk enough.” He chuckled.

The ginger just nodded before mouthing, “I love you,” and then trotting back down the hallway.

Q sighed deeply, before turning back to the mirror and giving his hair another attempt at lying flat. He desperately ran a comb through it, but to no avail.

He heard the door creak open a little.

“Conrad, I’ve said I’ll see you later!” Q huffed.

“I can’t fucking believe it, you know?”

Q’s entire body froze at that voice.

“No,” he breathed… he was too scared to turn around. 

“I saw Eve in the lobby,” the voice continued. Q felt dizzy and had to rest a hand on the wall to keep him from falling over.  
“She said you were in this room… and that I should talk to you. Wasn’t exactly expecting this,” the voice spat, coldly, “You know? After a year? Suppose you moved on fast...”  
Q clenched his jaw and turned around, bringing his fist hard and fast across James Bond’s face.

He panted heavily, James held a fist to his jaw, thumb rubbing over the split in his lip Q had just given him. “Suppose I deserved that,” he mumbled, wiping his bloody thumb on his black shirt.

“How… _no_ … you… you died. You left me.” Q spat back, already feeling his eyes grow hot and stinging.

James had no words, he hated himself. He really did. 

“I… I ended up on the coast of Egypt. Stayed there for a bit. Civil unrest, you know…” he murmured, “Kind of hard to get back to England, couldn’t even phone. Didn’t have any money.”

“KIND OF HARD?” Q shouted back, pressing a hand to his forehead and sitting down on his bed. He felt as if he actually might faint.

“Q I fucked up, I did. But you… you’re getting married? To Conrad? He was our friend Q!” James panted back, stepping over to where Q was sitting. “I can’t believe it… I really can’t.” he cried, bringing his hands up to his face, and rubbing it in disbelief. 

James wasn’t expecting Q to be all that welcoming upon his return, to be honest, but this was a whole new level of moving on. He’d forgotten about James, he’d found someone else.

Q began crying, he couldn’t stop. How could James do this? Just disappear for a year, and come back to expect him to still be in love with him. As he held his hands to his eyes, his whole body shook. Of course he was still in love with James, that was the most terrible part of all this.  
Q knew that every time he avoided telling Conrad he loved him, and he knew it every time he and Conrad would have a fight and he’d return to his room, take out his photograph of James, and he knew it most of all that morning, when he’d cried himself back to sleep, wishing that he was marrying James instead. And here he was, sitting on his hotel bed, James in front of him, telling him off for moving on.

James knelt down on the carpet in front of him, bringing himself to eye level with Q.  
“You look beautiful, as always,” James sighed, “You never fail to take my breath away.”  
“James… stop…” Q said through sobs.

James raised a thumb to the skin just beneath Q’s eye, where he wiped away a stream of tears.  
Q didn’t push away, he couldn’t. He’d spent a year remembering the way James’s fingers felt on his skin. A part of him needed this.  
“He’s a lucky guy to get you,” James continued, “How the fuck did I let you go?”

“Maybe by pretending you were dead for a year.” Q hissed back, raising a hand and pressing it over James’, which was still held over the right side of his face. “I… I really like Conrad. He’s lovely. And in an ideal world you would just let me marry him.” Q tried to convince himself, but to no avail. He wanted to kiss James so badly, he really did. But he couldn’t… not after he’d been hurt like this.  
“Yeah, well, in a _perfect_ world you two wouldn't have even met…” James sighed back, deep lines furrowing in his forehead.

“This is not a perfect world, James.” Q announced, as he shook the hand from his face and stood up, marching authoritatively to the door.

“I know I shouldn’t be here, okay?” James pleaded, “But I just have to say something, before you disappear… again.” James swallowed the lump in his throat. Q kept walking.

“I love you still…”

Q stopped still in his tracks, as he felt another swell of tears form in his eyes. He turned in the doorway back to James. He was just standing there, in a pair of jeans and a loose hoodie.

“I’ve never stopped, and who knows if I will…” he swallowed hard, keeping his eyes locked on Q’s. 

“I… I don’t want to see us end…” James sighed deeply, as he stepped over to Q, their bodies only inches apart, “So here I am hoping you’ll let me come home with you…” he shrugged, defeatedly.  
Q couldn’t speak.

He tried to but the words lodged like glass in his throat.

“Say something… Q… anything at all. I can’t bear silence…”  
Q breathed deeply, “Well James, your timing was impeccable… as always,” he hissed.  
“I know it’s not exactly the place or time, okay? I just… I heard you were doing this, and I couldn't bear to lose you, Q.”

“You fucked up so badly, James,” Q groaned, pressing his pounding head against the doorframe.

“If I could… _fuck_ … if I could turn the _fucking_ hands of time and right my wrongs… I’d love you twice as hard, and hold you twice as strong… I’m down here on my knees, Q.” James sighed.

Q turned and saw James kneeled down, and for the first time that morning, laughed through his tears. James was so far from perfect in every single way, but Q needed him like air, that was all he could fathom right now.

“I’m begging you not to marry him. If you do my heart will break, and there’s only so much it can take,”

“Get up, James, you look like an idiot.”

James stood up slowly, “You need to give me another chance.”

“What would I tell Conrad?” Q sighed, eyes heavy and head spinning.

“Write him a note, I’m sure he’ll understand.” James shrugged weakly.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Q snapped, before stepping forward and aggressively kissing James’ lips. He pushed his hands into James’ hair and held on tightly, kissing him harder. Q felt as if he were on fire as he tasted more of James, it felt like he was tasting fresh air for the first time after spending years in a basement.

James pulled away, “I love you, still,” he breathed, before pushing Q against the wall, and kissing him, breathing him in.

“I have no idea what I’m going to tell my family,” Q moaned as he wrapped his arms around James’ waist, “But if you don’t get me in a cab home in five minutes and shag me senseless I’m never talking to you again.”

“I think that can be arranged,” James hummed back, “Just promise me you’ll never go out for drinks with the Medics again?”

“Oh you are so full of shit sometimes,” Q laughed, kissing James’ split lip.


End file.
